


Do Not Soon Forget

by sxrensxng



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Just Sylvain Being Emo, Mentions of Death, No Romance, Survivor Guilt, White Clouds: Chapter 5 spoilers, this is really short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23992456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxrensxng/pseuds/sxrensxng
Summary: Sylvain is reminded of the horror that the lance of ruin has caused, and wonders what will happen while it is in his possession.
Kudos: 7





	Do Not Soon Forget

**Author's Note:**

> This story is also available on my wattpad (sxrensxng) in the event you wish to read it there.

SYLVAIN HAD BEEN trying to sleep for what felt like an eternity. He had tried everything to get his mind and body to rest, but nothing had seemed to work.

He had changed clothes. He had gotten a drink of water. He had even taken a walk around the monastery that Lysithea was so afraid of.

Nothing could erase the image of Miklan out of his mind. He couldn't stop seeing his brother turn into that monster. He couldn't stop hearing his screams.

The image played over and over again in his mind. He could see the darkness leaking out of the Lance of Ruin, and prying its way into his brother's skin.  
The way it burrowed into his skin, the darkness never hesitated.

He could still hear Miklan's screams, although it had been at least forty-eight hours since they'd first rung out.

The Black Tower continued to taunt him for every hour he was awake, and even the lucky few where he could fall asleep.

Sylvain knew that this was indirectly his fault. If he had never been born this wouldn't have been an issue to begin with. Miklan would have been head of House Gautier, and would've gotten everything he'd ever wanted.

Sylvain knew that his family would've kept having children until they received one with a crest, but that was beside the point. Miklan had always hated him. It was no secret. From the moment he was born to the moment he was pushed down the well, Sylvain knew he wasn't wanted. Miklan has every reason to. Sylvain was everything Miklan wasn't.

Yet something kept stirring inside of his mind as he thought of his brother. Something remorseful.

He had regretted striking Miklan down.

But what other choice did he have? Let Miklan suffer in the beastly form that overtook his body? What would've happened to the people in the nearby village if Miklan and his thieves continued to terrorize them? Rhea was already upset at the fact that the Lance wasn't handed over the church, and Sylvain could barely imagine how angry she would've been if he had avoided killing Miklan. Maybe Sylvain would've been put on a list of heretics to be executed.

Sylvain reached for any excuse for what he had done.

He felt evil.

He knew what he had done was right, and yet he couldn't justify it.

The Professor had insisted that the weapon would help them greatly in the future and that Sylvain was meant to wield it. His teacher had even fought tooth and nail against the Archbishop for Sylvain to carry the lance.

That goddess-forsaken weapon had done more harm than good, even if the Professor insisted otherwise. That much Sylvain knew.

He had been staring at it for the past half-hour.

It was propped against the wall in the corner of his dormitory, staring right back at him.

Sylvain hated to admit it, but the Lance of Ruin scared him.

It was already disturbing in appearance, without all that happened. It looked like it was made up of bones, a human spine even. Sylvain could count the individual joints of The Lance and wondered how such a thing could've been a gift from the Goddess.

It looked like it was alive too. The whole thing shifted, almost like it was breathing. Each and every joint would move on command, listening to the red stone in its center.

Sylvain hated it, even more, when he held it.

He could feel the movement now, instead of just seeing it. A small humming would be sent through his skin as he held it.

Even worse, he could hear it. It was the clicking of the bones of the blade, and the humming of its crest stone.

It was a large contributor to why Sylvain had trouble sleeping, although he wouldn't have described it as loud. It was more so what the weapon stood for that irked Sylvain so.

The death of Miklan. All the deaths that it had caused before. The nameless villagers that Miklan had murdered.

Although Sylvain knew that what happened to Miklan could never happen to him, he still feared to become some other kind of monster.

A man who was fueled off of the blood he shed. A man who enjoyed seeing the wicked weapon abuse its power.

Sylvain turned over to face the wall and began to count the individual bricks. Maybe it would give him some peace of mind.

Yet, the quiet humming of the Lance of Ruin grew louder as he counted bricks.

Twelve.

Thirteen.

Fourteen.

On brick fifteen the Lance seemed to grow so loud that it would only be silenced when Sylvain faced it again. He shot out of bed and grabbed the twisted weapon.

The man held it in two hands, studying it further.

He didn't know why he even tried to understand it. It wasn't like he could undo what had already been done. The Lance couldn't magically return Miklan.

Sylvain's grip tightens around the hilt, and he stared into the glowing crest stone.

Maybe he couldn't undo what had happened to Miklan. Maybe he couldn't fix their broken relationship.

But he was going to do his best to not forget it.


End file.
